Trajann Valoris, Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and a High Lord of Terra, had acceded to the Primarch's request. Leading the elite guardians of the Emperor, he was determined to locate and destroy the emerald Warp-gate Guilliman had witnessed in his father's vision.
This was no simple feat. Guilliman himself remained uncertain of the gate's exact coordinates, leaving the task to the Custodes, whose deductive reasoning was as peerless as their martial prowess. For the Emperor and Holy Terra, the Captain-General gave his word.
The breakthrough came through the interrogation of a captured Skaven Chieftain. Under the relentless scrutiny of Imperial torturers, the loathsome xenos finally yielded.
"How did you infiltrate Holy Terra? How many more of your foul kind infest its depths?" the interrogator demanded, applying the most agonizing techniques of the Tower of Hegemon.
The rat-creature, broken by the ordeal, chirped with a manic clarity.
"No-no! We were always here, always... YES! Man-things, man-things... the Children of the Great Horned Rat have been watching you-you! We are in your gutters, your sewers, your lightless pits, gnawing your refuse! We devour your bones, and you notice-see nothing! But now-now… the glory of the Great Horned Rat shines upon all rat-kin! We have risen! The world below, the world above... all-all is ours! Ah-hahahahaha!!"
The Skaven laughed with a maddened intensity, and even the most brutal lashings could not silence its hysterical shrieks.
Nevertheless, the Imperium had its lead: the Mariana Trench. The deepest abyss of Holy Terra was the primary staging ground for the vermin hordes. While the headquarters of Clan Verminus lay beneath the Ural Mountains, the central Gnawhole hub was situated beneath the trench. Even Whitesick was not so foolish as to permit every rat-army in the galaxy to funnel through his personal sovereign lair.
"Honored Trajann, for the sake of the Emperor, we must end this war swiftly. The Warp-storms have choked the Imperium, and the Sol System cannot endure further attrition."
Guilliman addressed the Captain-General with deep respect. Unlike the rest of the Imperium, the Custodians harbored a deep-seated distrust of the Adeptus Astartes, and an even sharper skepticism toward the Primarchs. In their eyes, it was the failures of the Primarchs and their Legions that had consigned the Emperor to the Golden Throne, forever ending His walk among men.
Yet, Trajann Valoris recognized the weight of Guilliman's labor. He was prepared to lead his brotherhood beyond the palace walls.
"The Imperium's glory shall endure!" Valoris struck his breastplate with a gauntleted fist, a gesture of finality.
He immediately dispatched a formidable strike force: an Achillus Dreadnought-led contingent of Allarus Terminators known as the Gilded Fists, under the command of Vanius Arcturon-Tybus.
As the Emperor's executioners and most terrifying warriors, the Gilded Fists accepted their orders without question. Vanius's eyes remained resolute as he swore his oath before the Golden Throne.
One hundred Allarus Terminators, blessed by Imperial preachers and Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus, boarded ten Venerable Land Raiders. Carried by Stormbirds from the Himalayan plateaus, they plummeted toward the war-torn depths of the Mariana Trench.
The Ultramarine pilots responsible for their transport felt a rare pang of the awe, and perhaps the insignificance, that mortals felt in the presence of the Astartes. In the presence of these golden demigods, even the Space Marines felt like mere men.
Five Terran hours later, Vanius checked his master-crafted Auspex and stood.
"We have arrived. Commencing operation. Your duty is concluded, Legionary."
Though addressed with the cold authority one might use for a thrall, the Ultramarine pilot offered no protest. He dutifully delivered the demigods to the surface.
Below lay a desperate defensive line held by the Militarum Tempestus. Clinging to their final trench, the remaining three thousand Scions were pouring fire into the darkness to stem the incoming tide. They had prepared themselves to die for the Emperor, but when the vox-casters crackled with new orders, the commanding officer's face went pale with reverence.
"Quickly! Follow me to receive the Emperor's messengers!"
To a mortal, the arrival of the Custodes was indistinguishable from the presence of the Emperor Himself. Every officer not currently locked in melee rushed toward the landing pads. Five Stormbirds touched down, disgorging ten auramite-gold Land Raiders and the towering, golden giants of the Adeptus Custodes.
"By the Throne, forgive us, My Lords, for the insolence of not greeting you with our full strength!"
The Tempestus commander, his adjutant, and the accompanying Inquisitor knelt, their voices trembling with religious fervor.
Vanius looked down at them, his voice flat and detached. "You are fighting for the Emperor. That is the only etiquette required. Stand, Colonel Grier."
"You... you know the name of this humble servant? What an honor, My Lord!" The officer was near tears with gratitude.
"It is but a name. The Imperium remembers the names of all who fight with honor. We shall not linger; our mission lies elsewhere," Vanius said, as casually as if he were discussing a minor administrative detail.
The Custodes did not forget names, nor did they forget the Cataclysm brought about by the Astartes. Even now, they viewed the Primarchs and their sons with a cold, suspicious eye.
The cacophony of war drew closer, the shrieks of the xenos and the thunder of artillery. The officers resolved to join the firing line personally to repay the honor of the Custodes' presence.
"Fear not, My Lord. Before our lives are spent, no xenos shall disturb your path!" The Colonel drew his power sword and hellgun, ready to charge into the meat grinder.
A golden hand stayed him.
Vanius and the other Allarus Terminators of the Gilded Fists leveled their Guardian Spears.
"Before we depart, I shall provide a demonstration," Vanius stated. "Mortal, the Imperium requires the sacrifice of the loyal, but it needs men like you alive to serve."
A Rat Ogre roared as it crested the trench, followed by hundreds of Clanrats and a dozen Leman Rust tanks.
Vanius did not flinch. His Guardian Spear blurred with a speed invisible to the human eye, skewering the Rat Ogre through the chest. With a flick of his wrist, the power blade, sheathed in disruptive energy, sliced through the beast like a hot knife through tallow, rendering it into bloody chunks.
The Allarus Terminators moved with a synchronization that was less military drill and more lethal choreography. They formed a golden bulwark against the tide. Their weapons spun in a whirlwind of death; the green-glowing projectiles of the Skaven sparked harmlessly off their Auramite plate. Countless vermin were minced into red mist by the "great-wheel" swings of the Custodian blades.
Vanius strode forward, his spear punching through the frontal glacis of a Leman Rust. He leapt onto the hull, tore the hatch open with his bare hands, and dropped a grenade inside. The tank detonated.
The entire engagement lasted mere microseconds of his focus.
Within minutes, a Skaven force that would have annihilated the entire Tempestus regiment was wiped out. Terror-stricken, the surviving rats broke and fled.
"Satis. We proceed," Vanius said, nodding as if he had merely swept away a layer of dust.
The Gilded Fists boarded their Venerable Land Raiders. Utilizing ancient teleporters within the hulls, devices that allowed them to bypass the corrupting touch of the Warp, the golden warriors vanished, hurtling toward their true objective with the inevitability of a thunderbolt.
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